


scandalous

by phancontent



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Phil Lester - Fandom
Genre: Alternative Universe - Rockstar, Blushing Phil Lester, Confident Dan Howell, Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Glam Rock, Jealous Dan Howell, Jealous Phil Lester, M/M, Rockstar Dan Howell, Shy Phil Lester, Songwriter Phil Lester, glam!dan, shy!Phil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phancontent/pseuds/phancontent
Summary: Daniel Howell, a well known "emo glam star", a singer and a fashion icon, faces a writing crisis and decides to hire an unemployed famous songwriter named Phil Lester, who can't stop blushing with every grin Dan gives him.





	1. chapter 1

Dan’s POV.

I'm trapped. It's been three months since I was supposed to start recording my new album and I'm still stuck in the first song. After three world tours, things are not the same as before and my body is starting to notice that. My mind too. It's like when you read a book and you have to go back to the first paragraph because you don’t understand anything that you read: your eyes are there but your mind is elsewhere. 

I used to find art in every mundane object easily, from a fragile pencil to a sunset. Now everything around me seems boring. The only thing I can get to enjoy now are bodies. Bodies, with all their shapes, sizes, colors, smells. Bodies which are not songs, which are not mine and will never be. I take a sigh and lean back on my stupid notebook, blank, with no words at all. I have a thousand erasers crumpled, destroyed, lying on the floor. I might be a little indecisive, maybe. 

The pressure I feel while reading all those headlines in magazines is crushing me. "The new emo glam star," they say, and I feel overwhelmed.  
I go to the bathroom and something clicks on my head. I wash my face in the sink and look myself in the mirror.  
"You need help, mate," I say to myself, then smile and start to put on makeup. A little highlighter on my cheeks, eyeshadow and eyeliner in my eyes. Some leather jeans and a translucent blouse are the perfect outfit to resurface, to wake up again. I leave my little penthouse and call my manager while I get into the car.  
"I need help," I say to my manager as soon as she answers the phone.  
"Daniel, has something happened?" She responds with concern staining his voice.  
"I can’t write any song, Louise. I've been doing literally nothing for three months now"   
"How can I help you? Writing songs is not my thing, Dani"  
I play with my curls while driving with the other hand, the phone in speaker.  
"Remember that guy you told me about some weeks ago? Phil Lester... Hire him, I guess? We have a maximum term that we have already lengthened it enough."  
"Oh, I remember him. I could try and tell him you are interested" A faint laugh escapes from my lips.  
"Sounds nice, but I need to meet him right now"  
“Now?,” she asks, confused. “Why is that?”  
“I don’t know, Lou, I just know that it has to be in less than a couple hours”  
"I'll see what I can do, don’t worry. Where are you going to be?"  
Thank God this woman has so much patience with me.  
“The studio”. There is a moment of silence. “Thank you, Louise"  
"I'm your manager, Daniel, it’s my job to please you"  
I laugh and say to myself 'you are also a friend', while hanging up the phone.


	2. chapter 2

Phil's POV

 

My mind whirred with a thousand scenarios and ideas but my hands and fingers just weren't fast enough to ink them onto the blank paper laying on the desk.

An idea that had popped up in my mind all of a sudden had made me want jump up from my bed where I was lounging at and immediately word it out before it disperses out from my mind again.

My lips curl upwards as I smile triumphantly at the end result and one of the hundreds of stories that I had written down in words. My masterpiece.

A short poem about a little girl being fed with lies her entire life and when after reaching adulthood, is repulsed by the truth and responsibilities being thrown at her, struggling to stand straight in a world of judging faces.

I explained the story in a few shirt verses, making me proud of my own creation like I always become after everything that I create. But no matter how proud I am of my own work, I am not good enough.

Even though some people love the stuff that I create, I'm still not ever good enough and that made my smile morph into a frown. My career has been going downhill for a reason unknown to anyone including me. After 4 years of being a successful poet and songwriter my career has started to crash down.

The media had started to capture my mysterious disappearance after all of the top of the charts songs that I had written. But the news had died down in a week. I was no longer relevant in the eyes of people.

Damn my shyness and anxiety. I blame it for every catastrophe that has ever taken place in my life. Why would anyone want to hire a anxiety ridden mess like me even if I had oh so amazing writing skills.

I had desperately tried to contact a few artists and companies after my downfall but either they already had a songwriter or they just didn't want to hire me. There were new better creators that had showed up and my relevancy had just fallen as every knew creator stepped into the industry.

I still wanted to create music and show it to the entire world but that opportunity had just melted away from my hold and evaporated into thin air.

The piece of paper fell off of my shaky grip on it, falling silently onto the mahogany desk. My trembling hand fell down beside it resting on the cold dark wood.

It enraged me to see my career crumbling apart before my own eyes, but I couldn't do anything about it other than blame myself. I crumpled the once called masterpiece and threw it behind me into the mess of my dark room that I barely got out of. Even though I make new poems and songs everyday no one would care enough to even give a second glance at it anymore and that thought made tears well up in my eyes.

I tugged my pastel blue hoodie down my palms and held it there tightly out of habit. Making sweater paws somehow comforts me and makes me feel safer for some reason, it has always been like that. It gave me the comfort that no one bothered to provide. Kinda sad but true.

I pulled up my legs to my chest, curling up in my own ball of self pity inside the little cocoon of rich interior designing. I almost started having a slight anxiety attack of my failing career and me becoming poor and losing the handful of friends as well, before the familiar ringtone of my phone interrupted the silence of the desolate room.

I lifted my head up from my knees and peeked at the unknown number lighting up my phone. I hesitantly answered it and bought it up to my ear whispering a dull greeting due to my doleful state.

"Philip Lester, famous songwriter and poet?" A female and bubbly yet professional voice spoke through the phone. I almost wanted to correct her to once famous, but I decided against it.

"Yes. Who is this?" I reply timidly my anxiety of talking to strangers taking over my mind and soul yet the inquiry making my heart bubble with hope and excitement. And my eyes widened at the words she spoke next.

"I am Louise Pentland. Manager of Daniel Howell."

 

~

 

My legs bounced up and down in my seat as I fiddled with my sweater, a nervous habit of mine. A slight smile played on my lips as my heart thumped anxiously. I was getting hired.

I'm going to possibly work with Daniel Howell, famous rockstar and fashion sensation. I never thought anyone was going to hire me and definitely didn't think Daniel Howell would.

My chauffeur was taking me to the location that Louise sent me to meet Daniel. When she informed me that she wanted me as a songwriter for Daniel I didn't think that she would be calling me to meet him the same day as well, but as they say, beggars can't be choosers.

I looked out the window into the busy London evening, the shops and passersby a blur in my vision. My nerves were jittery and anxiety was on top of the roof as Chris, my chauffeur, pulled up into the parking lot of what i assumed was Daniel's studio.

I took in a deep breath and willed myself to stay calm and composed as this probably was the only chance for me too get my career back on track and I didn't want my social anxiety messing it up. I adjusted the collar of my white shirt and smoothened out the pastel green sweater I was wearing on top of it.

Chris sighed as I further played with my hair in the reflection of my phone. "If you stay here any longer, he is probably gonna leave and look for a better songwriter Phil." Chris's words made my eyes widen and I nodded, fumbling with the door handle.

Once I opened the car door I turned to Chris, "I'm scared," he gave me a reassuring smile back.

"Well, you've done this a million times Phil. I'm sure you'll be great." I gave him a grateful smile.

I quickly got out of the vehicle and closed the door shut behind me, turning to look at the giant studio that made me gawk in awe. Well, he is a famous rockstar after all.

I walked inside, passing through the glass doors and making my way towards the front desk slowly, my footsteps echoing throughout the empty floor. A boy with curly brown hair and a pair of glasses perched up on his nose was behind the desk. He quickly stood up when he saw me and greeted politely to which I greeted back warily.

I cleared my throat, "Um, Daniel Howell's manager Louise, i-informed me that Daniel wanted to talk to me and s-sent me this address." The boy's eyebrows furrowed together before they shot up in recognition.

"Philip Lester!" He yelled and I winced, heart beating quicker and nodded shyly. "Um, sorry about that," he scratched his head apologetically, "Well, Mr.Howell is currently in the second floor in the recording studio, most likely waiting for you." I nodded and made my way to the staircase that he pointed at, admiring the art and albums hung up on the walls of the hallway that I passed by.

The door at the top of the staircase was left slightly ajar and I could hear the light strumming of the guitar which made me smile and a little less nervous. Music always made me calm.

I opened the door and peeked inside and saw the singer sitting on an office chair in front of the panels. And oh god was he way more beautiful in real life. He had the perfect mess of curls sitting atop his head, slightly falling over his eyes as his fingers stringed the guitar softly trying to come up with the perfect tune. He was very attractive and it made me insecure about myself as I fumbled with my hair making sure it's right.

I quickly composed myself and knocked the door to get his attention and his head whipped towards the sound and smiled when his eyes met mine.

I swear my heart stopped for a second when I saw his perfect grin there, adorning his straight white teeth and I almost swooned. I felt like I was gonna pass out, because of his gorgeousness or my anxiety plummeting through the roof, I wasn't sure.

"Come in," he said standing up from the chair and placing his guitar back down on its stand beside the panel. I sauntered my way in there and marveled at the interior of the studio, not that I hadn't seen things like this before, but it still amazes me when I see different artists studios.

"Hello, I'm Daniel Howell, which you probably already know I assume. But you can call me Dan" He chuckled and I stood still staring at his pretty face, unsure if I should just keep staring at his sparkling brown eyes or shake his hand that he had put forth.

I shyly shook his warm hand, "Philip Lester," I averted my gaze from his entrancing ones blushing furiously from embarrassment, "or Phil if you want to."

He laughed lightly and it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in a long time. I already had ten thousand songs and poems ready, for his laugh, smile and beauty, my fingers itching to write them on paper and keep it safe. He was just as nice and friendly as portrayed by the media and I was thankful for that.

"Let's sit down shall we." I nod my head and sit down on the other office chair that he pointed to, placing my sweater paw clad palms on my knees. I'm very nervous.

The door opened and in came a guy holding a tray with two glasses of what I presumed was lemonade and placed it on the free space in front of the panel and I winced, concerned of it falling down. So I kept my distance away from the tray at all times.

"Well," Dan started and I shifted my gaze towards him as he gave me a soft smile that I reciprocated, "You probably know why we're here." I nodded.

"Yes, and t-thank you for hiring me for this position." I slapped myself mentally for sounding so sappy but Dan grinned at my words so I guess it wasn't that bad.

"Oh shush you," he laughed and I blushed, "of course I would, you're such an astounding writer. Your songs never fail to amaze me, really. It would be a pleasure for me to be working with a record breaking writer like you." His words resonated in my ears and I couldn't fight back the grin that took over my face.

"But why would you, such a fantastic artist need a songwriter?" I asked him shyly, mentally patting myself in the back for not stuttering.

"Um well, ever since the tour that just got over," he looked out of the window smile fading away, "my creative spark has faded away and I can't even write a single proper song for some reason." He said exasperatedly and I sympathized with him.

"Everyone have their m-moments of downfall, don't get so worked up about it. It's what makes us human" I said softly yet nervously and he looked back at me again and smiled. I bought my sweater paw hands to my face in a desperate attempt to cover my blushing face, but failing to calm down my erratic heart. I took a sip of the cool lemonade to calm myself, though it barely did anything.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "I'm just in need of guidance and help to publish my next album and my manager suggested you. I've listened to a lot of your works and i absolutely adore it, so i really would love to work with you. What do you say?"

I blushed again and nodded, "Well I-I can't deny a dazzling diva, " I smiled at him my heart fluttering with hope and anxiety for what was to come ahead. I guess my career won't after all be burning into shambles. And that thought made me smile wider.


	3. chapter 3

Dan’s POV

Phil was really cute. Cute and shy. I noticed he was always playing with the sleeves of his sweater, and sometimes he would stare at me for a long time until I turned to give him a grin, and he smiled back, nervously. I kinda understood why, I guess. The way I look can be shocking for some people. I myself fight against gender stereotypes, so my looks and everything about me isn’t, well.. conventional for society. 

Phil was really talented, but that didn’t surprised me. He had been in the music industry for ages and I had never heard not even one scandal about him, which I myself knew, was a really hard thing to accomplish, so I really admire that. 

Also, our minds seemed to work pretty similar artistically speaking. I had a couple ideas that came to my mind on the way to the studio and as soon as I told him about it, he understood and wrote literally what I wanted to say but better written. He was amazing. 

“Dan?,” I hear suddenly.   
“Hmm? Did you said something?” I smile softly, it happens all the time, I disconnect and get lost in my thoughts and he’s obviously not used to it. “Sorry, my mind went somewhere else”  
He laughed weakly, and gestured with his hand as to say ‘it doesn’t matter’ without using any word.   
“I asked if this sentence was okay,” he says, and at the same time he points out the words in the notebook.

I should’ve known you are more me than myself. 

I stare at the notebook, feeling a void in my stomach. My eyes are now staring at him.  
“How do you do that?,” I say, and I can see his face turning red. Cute.   
“What do you mean?” He asks timidly while playing with his sweater.  
“This is ecstatic, mate,” I grim at him. “Your fame is well deserved, really. We have been here for less than four hours and we already have a song”  
“Shus, don’t say that. I’m not- I’m not even famous, not anymore,” he says and I can sight a sign of insecurity in his eyes, but I’m not really sure.  
“That’s not true! I have listened to your stuff and it’s really popular”  
“Those songs were written like years ago. You are the first singer I have worked in a long time”  
That surprises me a lot.  
“Well, this album will be my best-seller thanks to you, so you will have lots of work requests after this,” I say while I I give him a pat on the back.   
“I really hope so,” He says simply, and comes back to the writing. 

I take the guitar and work in some riffs that adjust to the melody we have settled for this song. As I'm finding the right tune, I look askance at Phil as he works. I know him very little but I can recognize that he is full of insecurities and anxiety. He is a really easy person to read, quite transparent, plus I was like that a couple years ago, when everything around me hurted me, but not anymore.   
I realise I don’t even know how old is he, but he's been in this industry for years, so I guess he must be 30-something. 

 

“Phil, Oh my God!,” I say as I see the black clock hung on the wall, “It’s three A.M.!” I scream, and I proceed to cringe. I scream a lot and speak really loudly and I’m aware than that is really annoying. But it doesn’t seem to annoy Phil.   
“It’s ok, Dan,” he says calmly after my dramatic reaction with a huge smile on his lips. Totally adorable.   
“Sorry, I overreact a lot, you should know”  
He laughs as we both proceed to get out of the studio. We went down stairs and stopped for a moment at the reception.   
“So…,” I sat awkwardly “Do you want me to take you home? My car is here and it’s pretty late”   
“No no no,” he says abruptly, “I can call my chauffeur”  
“For fucks sake, Phil, it’s almost four A.M. They must be sleeping”. Doubt crosses his eyes, “I’m not a murderer, you know,” I say joking, and push my shoulder against hims, playfull.  
“Ok, maybe it’s a good idea”  
“It is! I am a man of good ideas!”   
“Yeah, and that’s why you had to contract me,” he says and his face goes red when he sees my frown. I mean, he’s right, I’m not even capable of doing my own work as a singer, but that still hurted a little. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean that! I always mess it up!”  
“Hey!” I shout and hold his arms that are moving frantically, “I know you didn’t, don’t worry”  
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, with his cheeks still flushed.   
“It’s ok, now let’s go home,” I say and smile a little. I look around and see PJ, the receptionist, looking at us. “Oh, PJ! You still here!”  
“You know I always stay here until you leave, Danny” he says rolling his eyes.  
“I’ll drive you home too, let’s go,” I say and a satisfied smile is noticeable in his face.  
“Thanks, you are the best”  
I glance at Phil, who is even shy than usually.  
“C’mmon Phil,” I cheer him up and rest a hand in his shoulder while we get go to the car that is in front of the building, in a parking area.   
“Where do you live, Phil?” I ask him and he takes a seat in the back, because PJ is already in the front sit, and I’m the driver, of course.   
He gives me his address and it’s quite close, just a little further than PJ's so I drive firstly to PJ’s house.

“Actually, I wanted to go to yours, Danny. If that's ok with you,” PJ says with a cheeky look and I laugh softly.  
“Of course it is”   
I see the front mirror of the car and Phil is just quietly looking at the window.

Ten minutes after a silence that felt like hours, we arrive to Phil's and I wave a hand at him when he's out of the car.  
“See you tomorrow, Phiiil!,” I say smiling from my car's window and he smiles me back.  
“See you Daaan”  
He gets into the house and I start driving again.  
“He's so talented,” says PJ,when we arrive at my penthouse and rest in my sofa.   
“Who?”   
“Phil,” he says and I can hear his eyes rolling at the so obvious thing.   
“Yes he is, we already have a song”   
He hums and proceeds to rest his head in my shoulder while we watch some shitty movie in my Tv.   
“I think he's straight, what a shame” he says, trying to talk about him.   
“Mhmmm”.  
I'm really tired so I don't answer to that. I just know that this album is going to be different. And freaking scandalous.


	4. chapter 4

Phil's POV

 

I shut the front door softly, locking it behind me as a smile crept it's way to my lips. I was overwhelmed with feelings and was on top of the moon for two reasons.

First, I got hired! I couldn't even believe it. One second I was crying because of my broken career and the next I am sitting next to a famous singer writing a song for him.

And secondly, I was working with the Daniel Howell.

I went to the living room and plopped onto the couch, sighing dreamily. The Daniel Howell, who broke the charts with every one of his albums and is a miraculous singer. The Daniel Howell, that made everyone swoon and fall for him, hell even I did. He was so beautiful and eye catching that I couldn't even stop staring at his captivating brown orbs.

I blushed again thinking about him and his pretty face. It was hard not to stare at him and his attractive personality. Every time he looked at me I felt insecure and nervous for some reason.

I sank lower into the couch thinking about the days events and how we had written an entire song that was absolutely amazing. Dan had praised my skills of writing and I felt elated when he did, though I didn't show it. I liked it when people appreciated my work sincerely, it made me feel a little less useless.

"You're back!" I heard a northern accent yell from the kitchen and I instantly turned towards the sound my heart beating a hundred miles per second. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just Chris and sat back down, comfortably on the couch.

"What are you doing here?" I asked shakily my breathing wavering as I tried to steady my racing heart. Guilt, immediately flashed in the brunette's eyes as he quickly made his way towards me with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry Phil. I didn't mean to scare you. Ah fuck, I should've known not scare you by now," he rambled, "I didn't even realise I was gonna scare you. Are you okay? You're not having an-"

"Chris," I let out breathy laugh, heart calming down now, "I'm alright, its fine. But be more careful next time will you? I don't want to have a heart attack." I chuckled and he smiled lightly still a little guilty.

I took a popcorn from the bowl and popped it in my mouth as he settled down beside me. "I asked you something you know?" I said lifting my legs up wrapping my hands around it, Chris switching on the TV and putting on Netflix.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a second and then they shot up, "Oh, um yeah. I didn't have anything to do today and got pretty bored, so I thought you know, why not keep little Philly some company for the day." I rolled my eyes laughing. "And ask you about the meeting with the Daniel Howell." His eyes lit up.

A soft pink dusted my cheeks as I sank further down the couch to get as comfortable as possible. "It was absolutely incredible." I smiled thinking about the day. "But I'm very tired right now," I yawned and Chris pouted, "I'll tell you everything in the morning."

"Aw c'mon Phil," he whined, "I want to know!" He shook my arm but I just pulled away from him as I mumbled something incoherent. I laid down on the couch and took a pillow sitting beside the armrest, hugging it tightly.

The opening to Sherlock played in the background as I slipped into a deep sleep, with thoughts about a mesmerizing rockstar and his glimmering eyes lulling me into a slumber.

 

~

 

The sound of a utensil falling on the ground woke me up from my dreamless sleep as I groaned, my neck sour due to the not so comfortable position I had slept in. I sat up slowly my eyes burning for some reason and everything a blur.

"Phil! You woke up!" Chris's voice echoed throughout the large house as I rubbed my eyes only making the burning worse. And then I realized. I forgot to remove my contacts.

I quickly got up from the couch and stumbled my way upstairs and into my room, rushing to the bathroom with tears in my eyes. I got in and removed my lenses, eyes still burning and vision blurry. I started to panic, thoughts of me losing my eyesight forever and horrible scenarios building up in my head.

My bathroom door burst open, "Fuck, what happened?" Chris asked worriedly stepping inside and noticing my tear stained face.

"I-I, s-s-slept with my c-contacts on," I said tears starting drop in fear, "I'm scared. My eyes are burning, they hurt so much." I said my breathing rapid.

"Your eyes are very red, but can you see clearly?" He asked and I blinked as I started to regain eyesight and nodded. "Well, I don't think you need to go to the doctor then. Just put some eye drops and wear your glasses for the day." He said calmly placing a soft hand on my shoulder, my breathing starting to become normal.

 

Chris had always been my friend that took care of me and comforted me during my panic attacks. He was my only friend. He was always there when I felt insecure, to reassure me with kind and positive words that lifted my mood up. He was the caring brother that I never got to have and I was insanely grateful to have him in my life.

 

I followed his instructions as he watched me closely as I slipped on my glasses, the irritation in my eyes much less noticeable.

"Better?" Chris asked and I smiled, nodding lightly. He breathed out in relief and stepped out of the bathroom, allowing me to freshen up. I stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and went to my wardrobe with a towel on my waist and another around my shoulders.

I pulled on a white hoodie with the words good vibes on it—how ironic—and put on some washed blue skinny jeans.

 

I went downstairs and saw Chris munching on some lucky charms and scrolling through his phone. "Hey," I greeted and he looked up and nodded with a mouthful of cereal.

"Thank you for saving me there," I mumbled making myself a bowl as well and slipping in beside him on the bar stool. He snorted, immediately coughing due to choking on the milk and i burst into a fit of laughter as he hacked violently.

"Shut up," he muttered as his cough subsided, "your welcome by the way, putting eyedrops when yours eyes burn is literal common sense." He said mockingly and I punched his arm, barely even making him wince due my lack of muscle strength and I pouted.

He saw my face and quickly did a show, "Ow, mate! That hurt!" He dramatically rubbed his hand and winced, making me roll my eyes, shaking my head at his stupid antics.

"Your eyes feeling better?"

"I already told you, yes, they're much better now."

"Good." He turned away to eat another spoonful of cereal and I copied him.

"Oh," he grinned mischievously after swallowing, "Tell me about Daniel Howell," he said excitedly and I grinned.

"Well, as I said, it was amazing. He's so beautiful and friendl-" I was cut off by the ringing of my phone on the countertop. Chris groaned but motioned me to pick up the phone.

I took it and saw the caller ID, immediately making me stumble out of the stool. Chris eyed me curiously as I checked the time making my eyes widen.

"Why didn't you tell me it was 10:30!?" I yelled at Chris.

"Well you never even told me to inform yo-"

"I had to meet up with Dan at 10!" His eyes widen as well in shock, quickly picking up the car keys and putting on his shoes as I copied his actions.

The phone was still ringing and I nervously picked it up heart beating anxiously. He was going to yell at me for standing him up. "Hello?" I held my breath waiting for the worst as I made my way to the car hurriedly. Dan was going to fire me, I was late at the first day! I messed it up, I messed up aga-

"Phil? Where are you?" He asked softly through the line and I was already much calmer that he didn't yell.

"I'm so sorry," I got inside the car as Chris started the engine, "I didn't even see the time and I got caught up in something, and I forgot. I'm so sorry."

"Its fine." I heard him chuckle on the other end, "Really it's fine, it must've been important. Don't worry I'm not gonna fire you, alright?" He cooed and it was as if he had read my mind. I sighed a shaky breath as Chris tilted his head to me, looking at me with a worried expression.

I smiled and shook my head making him diverted his attention back onto the road. "T-thats good then."

"Yes," I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll talk to you when you're here." He said and I murmured an okay, hanging up the call.

I slumped on my seat, adjusting my glasses and pulling the sleeves of my hoodie nervously as I looked out the window to pass time till we got to the studio. A few minutes later, we were pulling up at the studio and I hurriedly got out.

"Phil," I heard Chris say and I turned to see him. "Its gonna be alright. Be calm." He smiled and I nodded letting go of my sleeve and loosening up.  
"And I'm not letting you get away with the incomplete story." The car took off down the road and I giggled, walking inside the studio.

"Philip!" I heard the energetic brunette grin, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose and I unconsciously adjusted mine as well, not comfortable with wearing glasses in public. It made me feel even more nerdier.

"Hi," I smiled softly at him. He pointed upstairs smiling and I nodded at him making my way down the hall and towards the studio.

I stepped inside the studio, peeking through the door and immediately noticed Dan in the same chair again, wearing a glittery black jacket as he hummed a tune while playing with a single curl on top of his eyebrow.

He looked so stunning today. I mean, when has he not.

I knocked on the door and Dan turned around, a smile immediately lighting up his handsome face. I should really stop drooling over him but he was just so attractive that I couldn't even control my thoughts.

I involuntarily blushed under his gaze and returned back the smile as he stood up from the chair, "Philly!" He dragged like a happy child and I blushed darker, my hands habitually finding my sleeves and pulling it down.

"Hi Dan," I said softly and padded my way towards him and sat down in the chair. "Again, I'm very sorry that I made you wait for half an hour. I didn't even check the time, too caught up in the events." I started rambling.

"Its fine Phil, really." He reassured me with a smile, sitting across from me, "if I may ask, what happened?"

There's no pint in lying. I sighed and recounted the days events and his eyes glistened worriedly at me as concern flashed in his eyes. "Are you alright now?" He asked softly, and I nodded smiling at him.

"Yeah I put on some eye drops and its all better now." I said and adjusted my glasses self-consciously.

"Well I do think you look pretty cute in glasses," I blushed darker mumbling a thank you as he chuckled endearingly. But i still didn't understand what was endearing about me?

"So," he started looking at the notebook that we had written the song on, "should we write the next one, or compose this one first?" He questioned and I turned to him brows furrowed.

"Well your the singer, so you should be the one deciding that. I'm just the songwriter." I mumbled the last part and he looked at me with a raised brow.

"That's why you should help me. Because your the songwriter." He said like it was obvious, making me blush. "And I'm a bit indecisive so,"

"H-how did you do it before?" I asked.

He pondered for a second, "I always wrote all the songs first and tgen composed them. And sometimes I would just get the perfect melody for a song randomly in the middle of writing a song." He shrugged.

I nodded, "then l-lets do that,"

"Don't you have like a way that you do it in?" His hair bounced as he asked me and I quickly averted my eyes from his curls, blushing profusely. I was a blushing mess around him.

"N-no, I usually just go with what the artists suggest."

"Oh, okay then." He nodded. "So what's the next song gonna be about?" He questioned rhetorically, leaning back and rolling around in the office chair with a pen in hand.

I relaxed on the chair, pondering over good idea for a song. "Ooh!" Dan exclaimed, scaring me as I jumped lightly but not enough for him to notice. My heart is so damn weak.

"What about a love song?" He asked and I sighed, contemplating on whether to give my opinion or not, but finally giving in to the urge.

"Don't you think that's a little to.....c-common?" I asked shyly looking down at my shoes as I played with my sleeves.

"Yeah," he frowned, "That's what I was thinking as well." I sighed out in relief as I looked back up and saw him rolling around again. I took the moment to just admire him and his prominent features. His puckered lips tinted with a light shade of red, and his eyes. Oh god his eyes. His light makeup was spot on, the lights making him glow like a angel. A sexy angel.

"You know what," he stopped rotating and places a loud hand on the panel, snapping me out of my inappropriate thoughts that made me blush, again.

"We should go outside," my eyes widened in fear. That would definitely not be good for my social anxiety. But I couldn't tell him that I had it. I started shaking my head. "To get some inspiration you know? There is nothing interesting in this boring studio," he stood up and I followed him.

"But-"

"No buts, we're going and that's final. And I promise it'd be fun, you have me after all." He winked and I turned away from him my face getting warmer.

"What if-"

"Please," he pouted, making puppy dog eyes at me that I couldn't resist. I couldn't even resist his normal ones!

"Okay fine," I sighed and he cheered happily, picking up his notebook and pocketing the pen. I smiled, seeing him so happy and giddy. I could keep my social anxiety on check today. It was for him after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy new year lol

Dan’s pov

 

We leave the studio and go outside the building. I can feel Phil’s nervous aura right by my side, and we walk silently. 

“You Ok?,” I ask him, but I already know he isn't. I can feel it. 

“Yeah...I don’t really go out that much”

“Oh, I thought that since you work in this industry you would go out like, a lot to events and that kind of stuff”

“Not at all,” he says timidly while playing with his pale fingers. 

 

We walk towards a little park close to the studio. We are in the middle of a big city, so that’s the most greenish environment we can aspire for. 

 

This scenario of calming trees and “clean” air always helps me –or at least it used to– to get inspired, so I think it might work the same with Phil because he looks like a plants kind of guy.  

 

We sit on a bench once we arrive to the little park. 

 

“So, I think we can move on to the next song since we already finished the first one, yeah?,” I ask.

“Yes, you have something in mind?,” he says shyly and I can notice his eyes move around nervously and plays with his long sleeves. 

“I don’t know, my only idea was a love song, but as you said, it’s pretty common”

“W-What about this? I will ask you a couple questions and you answer them, and from the answers, I give you a song,” He says abruptly, with a soft smile on his lips. “Well, not a song, a sketch we can develop on the studio”

“That’s a great idea, Phil”

“Thank you, it’s a method I’ve used a lot of times and it usually works” He says and all his face goes red. I smile fondly, this boy is so cute but so insecure he doesn’t even realise of his beauty. “So, a color?,” he asks with the notebook now on his hands, ready to write whatever I tell him.

“Red. Do you have synesthesia or something?,” I with him, with curiosity and my eyes go wide. “That’d be pretty cool!”

“Not really,” he says and I nod, a little bit disappointed because, well, that would’ve been _really_ cool. “but sometimes colors express how we feel better than actual words,” He says while writing in the notebook. 

“Oh, that’s wise, really. Then I change my answer. Red is my favorite color, but right now my feelings are kind of green”

 

Phil looks up into my eyes and smiles as if he knew something that I don’t. “Okay, green then. Now, favorite season?”

“Autumn”  
“A mood?”

“Serenity”

“Fast or slow?,” He says, still focused on the notebook. A stupid giggle runs out of my mouth before I can stop it. _Professionalism, Daniel._ “Dan! For the rhythm of the song!,” he says with his face red again.

“Fast, in any sense” I say and laugh. “No, but seriously, my brand doesn’t allow me to sing a ballad or anything like that”

“Oh,” He says with a concerned look, “But don’t you want to?”

 

I look at him as if he had three heads. It’s not like I can do whatever I want, I have to follow a series of rules because I have a branding and I can’t just publish a soft song if my fans are all emo and dark, because then I would have no fans, which means no one would listen to my music. 

 

“No, Phil”

Phil seems hurt but writes anyway. I want to apologize but I don’t want to give any explanations so I simply wait for him to stop writing on that notebook. After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Phil speaks again. “This is all I have. If you don’t like it just tell me and I will change it,” He says while he gives me the notebook. “And Daniel, I don’t care about contracts, I care about what you like and you h-have to be honest with what you want because if not, all the songs are going to be mediocre”

 

I look at Phil and smile again. I smile a lot, I know, but it feels nice to hear someone say that they care about you and what you think and not how much money I am going to produce. “Thank you, Phil,” I say honestly and then read the lyrics. 

 

The lyrics are soft but aggressive, and transmit certainty. The song talks about a lonely night and the tranquility of it, remembering moments from my past that make me feel euphoric and happy with myself. Basically a song about loving myself and being happy with who I am. 

 

“I love this, Phil”

“Do you?”

“Yes, and I already have a melody in mind”

“That’s great, Dan”

“That’s great because of you,” I smile and he laughs. “Do you want to go to the studio so we can finish this?”

“Yes please,” He says, maybe too fast so I laugh and we head to the studio again.

 

___

 

After a couple of hours we already have the melody and chords for the first and second song. Personally, the second one is my favourite because it’s so personal and it says so much about me, it’s amazing Phil’s the one that wrote it. 

 

We stop to rest a little bit and to eat something since it’s almost 3 P.M. We leave the studio and go down-stairs. PJ is at the reception waiting for me because we usually eat together, no matter until what time he has to wait.  He makes a creepy smile when he sees Phil is with me and I try to make sings at him so he doesn’t overwhelm Phil. _Poor Phil._ I love PJ and he’s probably my best friend, but he asks too many questions and he’s a little bit hyperactive so he can come as, well, _overwhelming,_ specially to people like Phil.

 

“Hello there, my boys,” he says and gives a handshake to Phil and a kiss on the cheek to me. “Are you eating with us today?” PJ asks to Phil and Phil simply nods. 

 

“If that’s alright,” he says, seemingly insecure and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. 

 

“Of course it is, Phil,” PJ says before I can say anything. I roll my eyes and look at Phil and smile at him, trying to tell him telepathically _ignore PJ, I know he’s overwhelming._

“I was the one telling you to come with us, Phil.”  
  


After that Phil looks relaxed, but still shy in comparison to when we are alone. We leave the studio and go to our usual vegetarian restaurant, I ask him if he’s Ok with the plae and he nods happily. PJ is talking about something I’m not really listening when we enter the restaurant and sit on a table. Phil’s in front of me and PJ is sitting by my side. 

 

We give Phil a couple of minutes to read the menu and then the waiter comes to take our order. Once we all tell the girl named Sky what we want, she leaves and what I was fearing starts: a PJ questionnaire. 

 

“So, Phil,” PJ says and Phil, that at the moment was playing with a napkin, looks at him kind of scared. I put my hand on PJ’s thigh hoping he understands the “ _don’t be mean”_ message.

 

“Yes?” 

“How is it working so close with this bad boy?” asks PJ while pointing at me.

“I’m not a bad boy PJ, I’m-” he interrupts me. 

“A rockstar, yeah yeah, we’ve been knew.” he says with fake disdain. Phil laughs under his breath and I wink at him. His smile goes wilder and I feel accomplished. 

“He’s really calming and gives a good vibe, so it’s really relaxing,” he says and PJ looks at him nodding with a serious face.

“Hm. How old are you?” he asks and Phil laughs. 

“I’m 32, you?”

“Oh, older,” says PJ. “Interesting, I’m 29. Are you single?” 

I facepalm and want to disappear.

“PJ! You’re so imprudent! For fuck’s sake!” I kindof scream at PJ and he laughs. Phil is smirking so I relax a little bit. 

“It’s Ok, Dan,” says Phil and we all laugh. The food arrives and we all start eating. Phil never answers the question and we all pretend it never happened. We just keep with the banal chit chat and skip the awkward questions.

 

\----- 

  
  


Once we’re back at the building, PJ goes to the reception and we go to the studio. After that awkward question PJ asked Phil, Phil didn't speak much, not to say he didn't say anything. The truth is that I'm not surprised, it shows that Phil is a reserved and shy person. Once we entered the studio, Phil sighs and puts himself into work mode, because that's something I've noticed: Once Phil focuses on work, he is super professional, which is perfect since I sometimes get too distracted. We have been like that for about an hour, me thinking in silence and Phil writing in silence. Once I realize that I have no idea what he is writing, I ask him.

 

"What are you writing?"

 

Phil jumps on his seat, I guess that's because I suddenly interrupted the silence.

 

“Oh, hm, remember what PJ said? About not being a bad boy but a rockstar?”

 

“Yeah,” I say and my cheeks go red. On the media, I’m always portrayed as a bad boy and I hate it. I’m not bad, I’m not even a _fuckboy_ . I just enjoy not being alone. I don’t even like partying that much anymore, I guess I’m old. “Oh my God, I’m old,” I say out loud with a worried face, as a conclusion of my thoughts. When I realise I _actually_ said that, Phil is looking at me, confused. 

 

“Daniel, you’re literally 4 years younger than me. What’s that about?” 

 

“Sorry,” I laugh. “Nothing personal, I just- I just need to throw a party. Today.”

“Ooookay,” he says, even more confused. “As I was saying, when PJ said that, I thought it was catchy and good for a single, like less deep, more sellable, and that’s perfect because you always need at least one of those on an album.” 

 

“I like that, yeah,” I smile at him. 

 

“Well, I want it to have a really deep bass, and it would sound so good with your deepest voice.” 

 

“Deep voice?”

 

“Yeah, you know, like,” he licks his lips. “Deep voice. It’s all about bragging.”

“I don’t think I even have a deep voice,” I say as I read the paper Phil just handed me. It has really good punchlines and I understand the idea Phil wants to express. “Ok, I’m totally in, I’m a fan of this lyrics.”

“Thanks,” he says, with a pleased smile. “Don’t you have a vocal coach or something?”  
“Yeah, I do, but we usually get in touch with her only on tour to avoid voice damages or when we’re about to record the final version of a song on the studio, and we’re still far away from that.”

 

“Well, can you contact her for this week or something? The sooner the better.” he asks while playing with his quiff and poking his tongue out out of distraction. 

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that tomorrow.” 

“Perfect.” 

“So, we’re done for today, right?”

Phil stops playing with his hair and looks at me, smirking.

“You’re the one that has to tell me, you’re the boss here.” 

 

I laugh and blush. 

“Sounds like the kind of kink I’m into,” I say out loud and I laugh when I see Phil’s face go from pale to red. 

“Dan!” he says and he covers his face with his hands. 

“Oi, come on Phil, you’re older than me.” Phil looks at me as if I had three heads. 

 

“So what?!”

I roll my eyes.

“Whatever Phil,” and then, we both start laughing with no control. “It’s not a lie though,” I say, just to bother Phil.

“Shut up, Daniel!”

 

We keep laughing while we go down to reception. It’s then that I say goodbye to Phil, who’s about to leave when PJ yells from reception: "You still haven’t answered my question." I turn to see PJ and stop him but Phil simply turns around and says yes with his head with a giggly face, answering that indeed, he’s single. PJ laughs and throws a kiss at what Phil responds laughing and turning to finally leave the building.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heyyya, i know i said i was going to post like two weeks ago, but i love procrastinating and i wasn't in the mood for writing. however, I'll start posting ever monday from now on <3

Phil’s POV

 

We consolidate a kind of non-written schedule that lasts for almost two weeks: I arrive at 10 A.M. to the studio, both having already had breakfast, we work on the music of Dan's new album, which will be titled Scandalous. Then, around 3 in the afternoon, We go to eat with PJ to the same vegetarian restaurant which I like a lot. When we finish, we go back to the studio and go over all the concept of Scandalous and the order of the songs in the album. 

This named schedule gets breached for the first time on a Thursday. I, as usual and at the right time, go to the building and wave at PJ, with the simple purpose of going up-stairs to the studio, but PJ stops me.

“Sorry mate, he’s not here.” I stop walking ang go closer to the reception to talk with PJ with whom I actually have gotten closer to, since he’s always there when we are eating, and, well, overall, he’s genuinely nice, funny and positive. 

“What do you mean?” I say, confused. Dan is usually already in the studio when I arrive.

“He… didn’t show up today,” he says while giving me a strange look I can’t process because he instantly changes it to his usual bright smile. 

“Well, he must be late, I’ll wait for him in the studio or-”   
“No need to.”  
“Why?”  
“He’s not coming to the studio today.”  
“Oh, well, he didn’t tell me anything, so-”  
“It’s Ok Phil, he does that sometimes. He threw a party last night after, like, a month, so it probably was very wild.”

Well, that makes sense. I forgot he’s a superstar for a second. Of course he throws wild parties, even I did that when I was at the climax of my career and I’m the most introvert person ever.

“Oh, I’ll go home then, I guess-”

I wave at PJ to leave the building but PJ, again, stops me. 

“Wait, Phil!” I stop my steps and smile at PJ.   
“Tell me.”  
“Uh, well.” PJ’s cheeks go red for the first time since I met him. “Since, you know, Dan isn’t here, I was wondering if we,” PJ stops and looks down at the desk.  
“If we…?” I emphasize and give him a comfortable smile when he looks up at me. He relaxes a little bit and keeps talking.   
“If we could still go to eat together, maybe not to our usual place if you want to change or something,” he invites me, now in a way more confident tone. 

I play with the sleeves of my shirt. Is he asking me for a date?

“Hm, yeah, that sounds nice, it’s not like I have anything to do,” I answer, still not knowing if it’s a date or not. 

“This is not, uh, a date,” he says, and I laugh and nod, of course it’s not, Phil.   
“Okay yeah,” I say awkwardly.   
“Not because I wouldn’t like it to be, but because I want to do things right and I don’t want to pressure you,” he says suddenly, and I honestly wasn’t expecting that.   
“You’re not- You’re not pressuring me PJ,” I smile at him and he smiles back. “We can go to this sushi place I know and it’s quite close,” I propose.  
“Yeah, that sounds nice,”after his words a short awkward silence is placed and we try to get rid of it with laughter.  
"Well, what do you think if I go to the studio and review a few things while we wait for lunch time?" I say, and, well, that’s an excuse: I can’t do or modify anything without Dan there too. It would be unprofessional.

"OK yes. See you at 1 P.M? ”

"Yes, perfect," I confirm and then turn to go to the studio. Once I arrive, I sit down, put an alarm on my phone for 1 in the afternoon -sometimes I focus so much on my things that I lose track of time- I take my notebook and start writing, nothing related with Dan’s project, just writing, without thinking, letting my thoughts flow and my hand being able to capture them on paper, still not knowing if I’m about to go on a date or not, I wouldn’t be bothered if it was.

 

___

 

Sometimes I forget how pretty Dan is, with his confident standing, his extravagant personality and outstanding style. But, today, he looks nothing like that. Maybe, he’s standing under the studio’s door frame, and maybe, he looks like a silent wasted zombie. 

“What the fuck!,” I scream when I see him. 

The thing is, I wasn’t expecting seeing Dan here today, but he’s here, unless I’m drugged and he’s a vision. I stand up and go closer. I can smell the alcohol now, and something else I can’t recognise.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, but he just frowns and says nothing at all, looking straight into my eyes.  
“Dan, you should be home,” I speak again, and this time Dan actually does something. He keeps ignoring me and I want to yell at him, but honestly, with the hungover he obviously has, maybe that’s not the best idea. When I focus again and stop the upcoming overthinking, Dan is already sitting on the chair I was sitting on a couple minutes ago. 

“I wouldn’t leave you here all aloneee,” he sings, and I recognise the lyrics from a well known song of Dan’s first album. I giggle.  
“You look like shit, mate. You shouldn’t worry, I wasn’t expecting for you to come knowing the state you are at right now,” I say, calmly, hoping he realizes he shouldn’t be here and go home to sleep for a while.

Dan closes his eyes, leans his head back and whispers something I can’t hear. From where I’m standing, I can clearly see his profile, with all its shapes, soft shadows, his lips, mildly open, his eyelashes, his curls, falling a couple softly in his forehead. All together he looks beautiful, but I can tell he’s tired.

“Are you going on a date with PJ?” he asks, breaking the silence unexpectedly. I jump a little bit, still standing in the same position. Why is he asking that? Did PJ told him anything? Or better, is it a date the thing with PJ? I decide to go with the only honest answer I can give him.

“Honestly Dan, I don’t even know,” I say, and he opens his eyes and looks at me.   
“What do you mean you don’t know?”   
“Well, I don’t know. It’s confusing.”  
“What if it was a date?” he asks me with curiosity. He’s obviously asking me this because he’s PJ’s friend. He doesn’t want me to hurt his friend. 

“Then I would go and enjoy it and see what happens.” 

Dan smiles fondly and I take that as a sign that he liked my answer. 

“Just, if you were to date him, please don’t hurt him, he deserves the best and I know you can give him that.”   
“I will- I would, Dan, don’t worry. If there’s a thing I’m definitely not into is toxic relationships, Ok? You have nothing to worry about. Now go home and sleep for a while, please.”

 

___

 

2 months later. 

Well, turns out the thing with PJ was, indeed, a date. After that day, my life had been reduced into two parts: First of all, working with Dan, and second of all, dates and spending time with my boyfriend, PJ. I also go to a lot of parties now, not because I’m suddenly popular again but because, well, Dan and PJ are. I enjoy them, even though 3-months-ago Phil would definitely not even imagine it, the kind of parties I go to are amazing. It’s mostly full of singers, the good kind of singers, not the narcissistic pricks I’ve worked with a lot of times. The other day, for example, Harry Fucking Styles flirted with me in one of the bathrooms of Dan’s house and I totally freaked out. Dan is also dating someone, but he hasn’t told me who it is. All my suspects are in Nick Jonas, since they’re really close and flirt a lot on Twitter. 

As I promised Dan and also myself, I treat PJ the best way I can. We’re both really cheesy and Dan makes fun of us every time we eat together or hang out with him. I go to both PJ’s and Dan’s house a lot, to the point of not going to my place in weeks. Magazines are talking about me again, about the promising album that is about to get published, and I’m getting calls from different record labels, again. That little detail has given me a lot of self-confidence and has taken away a lot of insecurities I used to have. I’m not that shy anymore, at least not around Dan and PJ since I’ve become closer and closer to them. 

About that promising album, we finished it yesterday, including the recording and production, and Dan has even already recorded a couple of music videos. As a matter of fact, right now I’m at Dan’s place. It’s 9 P.M. and I just got dressed at one of its spare rooms that I’ve been sharing with PJ for a week now. Dan’s throwing a “little” party in honour of the soon to be published album. Since I’m the songwriter of the album, I’m obviously invited to the party. Plus, I can consider myself a Dan’s friend. 

I go downstairs and I can hear people talking in the kitchen. Once I get closer, I can difference Dan’s and PJ’s voice. 

“-not like that, PJ, I promise.” 

“Why don’t you at least accept it? It’s so obv-.” I can feel PJ’s exasperation from where I am. 

“It’s not, PJ. Stop it. I’m really happy with Nick.”

Yes! I knew they were dating. But what does that mean?

“But you wish you could date my-”

 

“Shh!”

“Don’t shush me, Dan.”

Ok, what the fuck am I doing eavesdropping? I think the best option is to go somewhere else and let them talk about whatever they’re talking about. I go to the livingroom and lie on the sofa. I can still overhear their voices but I can no longer understand what they’re saying. A couple minutes later, a flustered Dan and an angry PJ go to the livingroom. PJ sits besides me and grabs my hand. I put my head on his shoulder and Dan leaves the room, claiming that he has to call someone and the guests are about to get here.

The whole house is full of posters of the official album cover, an intimidating portrait of Dan with a raised eyebrow. It’s all black and white but the heavy make-up he has, that stands out thanks to its bright red colour. There’s also a lot of alcohol distributed all around the place and same thing with different kinds of snacks. 

“How much did you hear?” Says PJ after a couple minutes of complete silence. 

“Sorry?” I ask, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. I look up, still on his shoulder and he puts his han on my hair, playing with it. 

“Phiiiil,” he says, lowering his voice and making a soft laugh. 

“Lying is not my thing, isn’t it?”I try to avoid the question. 

“Stop it!” he says and laughs, giving me a little kiss on the forehead.   
“Ok, Ok, maybe I heard a couple things,” when I feel PJ getting tense I immediately add, “But like, I had no context, and before I could hear anything important I left because I felt bad for eavesdropping.” 

After that statement PJ relaxes again, I close my eyes and when I least expect it, the place is full of people, loud music and laughter.


End file.
